One Last Favor
by Stochey
Summary: A kind of depressing fic I wrote, someone dies, someone is going to die, & someone is going to leave. Please, please read & review!


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Title: One Last Favor

Name: Stacy

Website: http://www.geocities.com/sweet_angel_242/The_Slayers_home.html

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Setting: after Benediction

Spoilers: 3rd season of Angel up to Benediction.

Rating: R for angst and violence

Disclaimer: Don't own a thing, except the story itself.

Summary: A kind of depressing fic I wrote, someone dies, someone is going to die, & someone is going to leave. Please, please read & review! 

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It's getting dark now. My god. I have a big death wish; I'm not surprised. Why should I be? I've always had one in one form or another; you have to in my line of work. Boy am I ever deluded, I have no line of work anymore. The dark can be so comforting at times. I knew it was, to creatures of the night, but I never noticed how it feels just like a warm, invisible, blanket; how it hides you, how it seeps through your body down your throat, to your lungs and blood. And then, you live it, breathe it, until it chokes you and swallows you whole. I welcome it now, let the darkness come, I'll be waiting. If I were still a cautious man I would wait for day before I complete my task. Ha. A task, so that's what I've reduced it to. I haven't only gone mad, I've become something that Hollywood would make into an action/horror picture: British Hitman Gets Ultimate Revenge. Cold-blooded murder. That is my so-called task. I am not cautious, not anymore, I am no longer the voice of reason in our group. Partially because we have no group, or at least I am not a part of it anymore and also because I don't care. If it were day then he couldn't come after me right away, oh well, I don't care. I have a ticket to Paris in my coat pocket and I fully expect to use it tonight, but hell, he might even know I'm coming, he'll track me down, he'll smell me a mile away, smell his son's blood on my hands. Who cares? I'll still win, even when he kills me, no matter how much he's going to enjoy crushing my neck at the time, I'll still win, my misery and guilt and the pure darkness that has become my life will end, and he'll feel guilty, more guilty than usual anyway and then he'll blame himself and he'll live with it, forever. Or at least until someone shoves a stake through his chest. Reason? I have no real reason; it might be because if all my former friends are going to hate me, I want them to have a damn good reason. Or it might be just to get back at them for some reason, Angel and Conner, true, it wasn't their fault exactly but I'm bloody-well sure that if someone cared enough about me to risk everything to keep them from doing something horrible or keep their father from killing them, I'd show a bit more gratitude, but then again none of that was really going to happen. Damn, I keep forgetting, I'm nothing but a fool. It could even be because of Fred, I loved her so much and my friend ripped her away from me… If I work fast maybe I could go to the hotel and kill Gunn… no, too risky, no matter how much I want to I have to stick to the plan, find Connor, wait until he's alone and slit his throat when his head is turned ha, a mad man with a plan, that's almost laughable. My throat was slit trying to save him, why shouldn't he go through the same torture, except I'll make the cut deeper so he won't have to live with the aftermath, like I did. I really am a fool… its 10:00pm I have 1 hour until my flight, I need to work fast. _With that thought Wesley gets up from the darkened corner he had been sitting in for hours and picks up a knife and sticks inside his coat, pricking himself on the finger to test its sharpness, and grabs a crossbow, just as he is about to turn the door knob, he hears a knock on the door. _ If I still had any I would hope that it was going to be my former friends welcoming me back to work with them, but I gave up on that dream long ago. _ Wesley opens the door and sees Lilah there, she is smiling, Wesley remains solemn and silent._

"Wow! You _are_ coming over to the dark side." Lilah remarks as she notices how dark Wesley's apartment is. 

"What do you want?" Wesley asks. 

"Ahh, right to the point. We at Wolfram & Hart devote our time to making our client's lives easie-"

"I'm not your client!" Wesley snaps bitterly.

"What's wrong Wes? Have a fight with a friend? Oh, right you haven't got any." Lilah snaps back. 

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Wesley is silent.

"Now, do you want to hear what I have to say or not?" Lilah says harshly.

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Wesley hesitates for a moment and looks off into the distance and then turns his attention back to Lilah, smiling. Then without warning he pulls the knife out of his coat and stabs her in the stomach. She gives a short scream of pain and looks at him wide-eyed. Wesley reluctantly admitted to himself that the look on her face would not leave him anytime soon. As she began to sink to the floor he stabbed her once more and then withdrew the knife and let her fall. Wesley stepped over her body and into the hallway and calmly snatched a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and began to wipe the blood off of the knife.

I'm about to bring Angel's world crashing down, the least I could do was do him one last favor. _Wesley thought as he continued down the hallway._

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The End.

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